


Station Screwall

by Mysterijojo



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Loosely based on plot, Original Character(s), Other, Semi-Crossover?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysterijojo/pseuds/Mysterijojo
Summary: Imagine a scenario where you must work with a small group to maintain a spaceship, where two of you are actually impostors, intent on killing everyone. A place where trusting anyone could get you killed, yet being alone is a surefire way of dying.This, is not that scenario.Imagine a group of 8 or so oddballs who just so happens to find themselves on a spaceship. A spaceship in abysmal, constantly breaking condition, infested with aliens with eyes on their new prey. Everyone's almost never together. Who's to trust, if losing a fellow crewmate means more work for everyone? Now, that might be a good place for a thrilling story, or something, I don't know. But this is NOT that story.8 oddballs, 2+ impostors. and hijinks because f*** it, postal dude crewmate.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. The First day wasn't so bad.

**Station Screwall**

* * *

The first day wasn't so bad.

Sure, Jeremy had no clue who everyone around him was. Sure, They were all stuffed in astronaut uniforms, suspended long away from Earth in a spaceship. Sure, he has no clue what he signed up for.

But it pays well, and that's what got him sold.

For the short hour or so they've came together, mostly everyone shared their names, and/or talked to each other about menial things.

Jeremy was the red astronaut, marked with his suit being a vivid shade of red, moving down to a darker maroon near his feet. Everyone had their unique colors assigned to them, but everyone has their small differences in gear. In his case, bandages wrapped halfway down his forearm and shins, and a duffel bag worn behind his back, over one shoulder. Jeremy was by far the fastest of the group, albeit also on the thinner end.

The first day wasn't so bad, it was clear. Everyone was together, sitting by the same large, round table, with a red, large button in front of him. To his left, to his right, everyone looks back, then to each other.

Kyuu, the orange astronaut, despite his small stature, and average human look and shape, always had something off about him that always gave Jeremy feelings that he might actually be an alien. Despite that, he looks human, or human enough. Fully clad in orange, aside from blue wristbands and boots. Though, he isn't quite the smartest, but he is capable enough. But that wasn't really a requirement for his job, and Jeremy wondered why, given what they're in charge of.

Rando. The yellow astronaut was jacked, to say the least. His uniforms do little to hide his tall, muscular form, the other notable thing being the gold bracelets lining his forearm and shins. He even seems to be wearing clogs that blend in with the 5 or 6 rings. There's not much notable about him other than being the second tallest crewmate, at 6'5" (195cm). Yes, _second_ tallest.

The _tallest_ crewmember goes to the guy(?) right next to him. 6'10.5" (210cm), he has almost no defining features, asides from a zipper running down the front. His suit's a vibrant green that fades to a dark blue nearing the hands and feet, and for some reason, even the darker regions of his suit are blue. Kyuu just named the dude 'Gradient', and everyone stuck with it. Guy hasn't spoken a word since... Well, they even saw him, and his suit, while well-ironed and angular, doesn't quite say anything more. It wears blue boots and gloves, with the tips and rims colored green.

Then there's Shepherd, the pure green astronaut. It's hard to miss him or his voice, being the only one donning a military vest with cargo pants pockets on his suit. His voice was always behind some filter, like a radio filter, with audible pauses segmenting his speech, with clicks before and after every sentence. Doesn't help that he's just some part shorter than Jeremy, honestly one of the shorter members, but that's mostly because everyone's taller, and Shepherd's just an average height American. Poor man.

Misha. The blue astronaut had a larger body, and equally large arms, with hands the size of their heads. Their suit consisted of a metal plate over their shoulder, with a band of blocks painted like bullets spread throughout it. They have black gloves, and black boots, constantly bouncing up and down like they're some sort of robot, complete with the quiet put-put-putting of something behind their back. Jeremy just shrugged it off, who cares if Misha's a robot or not.

The P. Dude, or so the black astronaut himself calls himself, was... Someone. He was the only one wearing a black trench coat, with pins for a smiley face, explosion, and cross, over a blue shirt with a lighter-colored stereotypical alien face printed on it. And the only one wearing shoes. Jeremy hasn't seen too much of him, but from what he has, the Dude's crazy, to say the least.

Finally, the white astronaut, Dave. Jeremy liked Dave, everyone did. He was not wearing anything special, but he was the only one who seemed to actually know what to do, since everyone was either clueless, clueless, or clueless. Thank god they actually decided to bring someone competent to handle seven lemmings.

The next hour? an entire crash course in fixing, all eight people were crammed in room after room in the labyrinth of hallways and doors, as Dave showed off each and every task, which thankfully was simple enough for everyone to understand. Nothing wrong happened yet, everything went without a hitch. Well, mostly. By the time they returned to the cafeteria to discuss a very important button, the same button Jeremy sat by, some alarm just went off. The voice above had that same weird segmented speech Shepherd had, but sounded like it was through a megaphone, instead of a radio. And it was a lot more seamless.

" _ **Attention, all personnel. Foreign lifeforms detected. Defense mechanism engaged.**_ "

_Oh, that's not good, Jeremy thought._

**" _Attention, all personnel. Defense mechanism is malfunctioning._** "

_Certainly not good._


	2. Pipes, pipes, and More Pipes

Everyone murmured around the room, less in a 'let's figure out what to do' manner, and more of a 'oh damn who doth thou this impostors be' way. Dave stood up and exclaimed, "Everyone! Stick toge-"

" _ **Attention, all personnel. Reactor malfunc-**_ "

" _ **Attention, all personnel. Admin malfunc-**_ "

" _ **Attention, all personnel. Electrical malfunc-**_ "

" _ **Attention, all personnel. O2 malfunction detected. Fix immediately.**_ "

Everyone smashed their hands into their visors, thankfully no-one breaking it. "Oh my fucking god," everyone thought.

Dave sat down. "... Everyone, stick in groups of two."

* * *

Dave and Gradient were the group in charge of the Reactor. Well, more Dave, and Gradient's just following. Reach where they went, and the tall, two-colored astronaut kept an eye on the hallways and vents. Well, Dave hopes so, but everyone's visors blocks their face, and Gradient's no different. Hell, it seems to be working, since they did their duty without distraction. Task done.

Dave raised his hand in a hi-five, which ultimately led into one clue about who Gradient is.

Whoever he is, whatever he is, he's never done a hi-five before. Guess not _everything_ can go smoothly.

* * *

Misha and Shepherd were in Electrical. It took a long while, having taken a heavy detour. Once there, Shepherd ran in and did his thing: attach the wires to their corresponding colors, and take a torch from his suit before Misha pulls it away.

Misha's voice sounded slightly robotic. "Torch and wires don't mix."

" _... You. Are. Right._ "

Both of them closed the panel, then went on to the next thing they noticed was off, before a vent shuffled nearby. The front end rose up an inch, small hissing heard from the depths... Before closing suddenly, for no reason seemingly. Raising the minigun and MP5 they pointed at that vent, they went back to business, unbothered.

Task done, and they successfully hi-fived. No problems there.

* * *

Rando and Kyuu already handled O2. They were back at the cafeteria, hands to themselves and sitting upright, fully silent with wine and bread on Rando's side, soda and fried chicken on Kyuu's side. Both sat for a while... Before _snap_.

Both fell into a small chuckle, standing up and taking the photo taken. It was of the whole cafeteria, with them in the center, staring dead at the camera with their food on the table. Who knows why they took it, but whatever the reason, it was put into a frame, and hung right by the window. To which Dave, just returning with Gradient from the Reactor, noted. "... Why."

"Why not?" both answered.

* * *

Jeremy and the Dude. They're in charge of Admin.

Jeremy. They're in charge of Admin.

The dude was across the table, laid down and smoking a crackpipe. How the fuck did he manage to when he's still wearing his helmet, Jeremy didn't know.

"This can't be good for me, but I feel **great.** " the black astronaut said.

"Of course you do, fucking- Will you help me out here?"

"No."

Jeremy sighed, just fixing wires before- **Swoosh-** **CLANK!**

The red astronaut turned around, running as he saw the vent cover broken. The Dude fucking bent the thing in with a shovel. Jeremy swore he saw tentacles slide back in. "... What the fuck..."

The dude turned around, "Fuck me, I better get home."

"You're in a spaceship."

"... Fuck me."


	3. Chapter 3

Jeremy and the Dude stared at each other, then at the broken vent, Dude pulling the shovel out and by his side, a firm grip on it. Both of them stare by the door, glancing at the vent every now and then as they walk out. With the lights on, they make their way to the cafeteria, avoiding any more vents that could be holding more of what they just saw. Once there, Scout runs by, smacking the table and bouncing a tray up, grabbing it by the corner and waited.

The next few seconds, Misha and Shepherd entered, watching as the two astronauts before them held out their weapons.

" _What. The. Hell. Is. This._ "

Jeremy answered, "Fuckin- Fucking vent tentacles! Aliens! Something's hiding down in the vents!" He waves his tray over to the nearest vent, "One's by Admin!"

Dude then bumped scout aside, sitting by a table, and returning to his pipe, before choking and coughing, "Ough... I _knew_ I shouldn't have smoked that crap."

"Gee, wonder why."

Jeremy sat down before-

" ** _Attention, all personnel_** _ **!** **Shields Malfunction detected! Fix Immediately!**_ "

"... Fuck!"

Jeremy stood up and ran, leaving the Dude, Misha, and Shepherd alone.

* * *

Rando and Kyuu have since sat by in Weapons, playing the weird Asteroids game that, unknown to both of them, was clearing out actual asteroids in front. How Rando's rigged it to support two players, who knows. The thing in the vents, watching as a figure was playing with asteroids, decided not to change into any unassuming form, crawling slowly up the chair before... Realizing the yellow helmet and gloves were paired with an orange helmet and glove. There were two, and it immediately slithered back.

"Hell yeah! High score!" Rando screamed, his raising hand and obliterating the middle of the mass of tentacles and slimy shit currently making it's retreat. Kyuu slouched, but asked, "Damn it... Another round?"

"It's on."

Nobody noticed the alien lifeform escaping, bloody and with a healing, but massive hole in it's abdomen, healing.

Rando looked at his bloody hand, then at Kyuu, "... Oh shit."

* * *

Dave and Gradient scanned the camera footage. They have yet to really notice anything, so Gradient was made in charge of watching, Dave handling paperwork on the desk. Eventually, Gradient went out and brought Dave a bag of chips, of some brand no-one ever took note of. 

...

...

What, expected an imposter encounter? too bad.

* * *

Jeremy wan to shields, hastily fixing whatever issue has risen from the mess. Among that mess, four screws and an open vent, to which Jeremy immediately went to avoid. This was a good reminder to not run alone again, hitting the ground and picking up a broken rail piece and the screws.

One second... Two seconds... Four seconds... Eight seconds, and nothing. Jeremy went back, and continued his repairing. Not too long later, he heard footsteps. Footsteps that he didn't recognize. Turning around, a figure. It looked like an astronaut at least, so there's that, but... It looked like Dave.

The running man kept quiet, but Scout knew something was off, and took no chances. The place was a labyrinth, it was way too quick for Dave to head from Security to Shields. Especially from that route, which he took from the Cafeteria, the longest path from where he would be to here.

Jeremy tossed a screw up, swinging the rod and hitting the nail spot-on, driving it into the white astronaut's helmet, falling to the ground and sliding over. Jeremy leaped to the side, three more screws in hand and rod in the other.

"Ya ain't Dave, that's fo' sure. He ain't even close to that fast."

Well, it wasn't Dave, that's for sure. The helmet's visor was only so shallow, but within the dark depths of the helmet that would hide a human head, there was only flesh. Wriggling, slimy flesh, fully armed with teeth and such. "Eugh," Jeremy just jolted back before swinging another screw, and a weaker, but still direct shot to the head.

'Dave' stood up, the small piece falling off it's now-broken face. It did not look like broken glass, but more so torn skin, disgusting Jeremy more. But the instant it moved to suddenly pounce, the red astronaut proved his speed. By jumping, leaping mid-air, and bashing the thing down with the rod.

"Oh god- Oh god- Eegh! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

Each hit, while it did make the noise of rustling clothing, always hit either hard bone, wriggling mass, or teeth, but never where they would be on a normal person. Eventually, the thing just slithered out it's shell, the thing melting away as Jeremy leaps away. The wriggling mass just barely missing the man, it crawled back into the vents, the old skin pulled in with it as it was externally digested. Jeremy just walked away, keeping the bolts and rod in hand in case.

* * *

The Dude was in Medbay, getting scanned. While something was crawling out of the vent cover, the scanner had written out the Dude's results on the screen.

**HEIGHT: 190cm  
WEIGHT: 1t  
BLOOD TYPE: C=  
ID: THE DUDE  
COLOR: BLACK  
**

The wriggling mass has already taken the form of the Dude, ready to take his place as it's hands reach up, fingers slowly growing into claws, and a few rips and tears on it's suit forming and growing into individual mouths, complete with countless tentacle tounges and all that shit.

The actual Dude smoked another pipe, "Damn, one ton? And I thought my bitchy wife was heavy... Wait..."

The false Dude pulled it's hands away, letting out a small whimper when out of nowhere, the other black astronaut had pulled a massive launcher out. It looked like a gun, no doubt, but what gun has a comically large structure holding a canister of- Oh my god, is that fucking napalm? And- A rocket launcher? And a syringe... of piss...

The impostor immediately shuffled back, retreating out of it's disguise and room as the dude covered the place in countless weapons and shit, including a cage of living doves.

**WEIGHT: 186lb**

"Fuck yeah."

The next minute, everyone avoided Medbay as the postal dude basically absorbed all his weapons again with a series of _cliks_ , hidden away so well the Dude still stands and looks just like before.

...

He spent the next hour fucking buying pipes at 10$ a piece. To who, and how, no-one wanted to find out. And thus, his secret remains secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other words: Everyone begins doing their thing, with others or not, and impostors have to find a way to hunt them down.

**Author's Note:**

> Impostors, their ever-so threatening presence has struck fear in many. And horny to the horny.
> 
> What happens when they try to keep their grasp on the station if most of the crewmates are just as dangerous, if not more? If after so many missions of hunting down defenseless crews, their next set of target's packing just as much heat as them?
> 
> I don't fucking know, I'm just writing for the shits and giggles. Expect bullshit left and right.


End file.
